


I Want To Live

by skinman



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Mythology - Freeform, iwtb who? i don't know her, mulder and scully deserve better, mulder and scully search for their son, revival rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 08:50:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14132523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinman/pseuds/skinman
Summary: This story begins ten years after IWTB but disregards the events of that film and anything contained within the revival series, in order to do a rewrite of the mythology arc. This of course means anyone who died in the revival is still alive (long live queen mother maggie scully), but CSM is dead because he got blown to bits in season 9 and never should have come back....“Do you know what happened?” Amos seemed genuinely worried about her. She must have caused quite a scene.“I’m fine, I just… there was a boy, a little boy, in the reception. Did you see him?” Scully was scared she might be going crazy. Part of her was hoping this was just the culmination of some child happening to be in the lobby, and her moving a little too quickly.“No, nobody saw any little boy, Dana.” Amos replied with a furrowed brow. “Did you know the child? Ellie told the EMTs you said the name ‘William’ before you collapsed.”





	I Want To Live

 

 

There was a boy. There was always a boy, though she never saw him, not his face, just hands and feet. Everything was seen through his eyes. Train rides with scenery that blurred, and backpack he always fiddled with, picking at the seams. Pale walled corridors. Other children, talking, whispering. A man sat on the other side of a desk, stern, hands folded. A clinical room, with a monitor, and a heart beating too fast. Glimpses of a life that never made that much sense to her. She never saw anything to suggest who he was, or where he was, and she never remembered anything at all. 

 

* * *

 

 

“I couldn’t sleep.” 

 

His office could be so dark and cold, she didn’t like it, but it sometimes reminded her of the basement office, so maybe that’s why Mulder liked it so much. He was pining up an article from some magazine when she got there, it had  _ ‘Did naval vessel get a radio transmission from the future?’  _ as it’s title. Scully sighed.

 

Mulder often couldn’t sleep, didn’t sleep. His sleep schedule was pretty consistently erratic, and it had been even before they’d met. But Scully, he’d never known for her to be this way, except on the rare occasion she was ill or stressed. 

 

“Again?” He swiveled in his desk chair.

 

“I had this strange…” She trailed off. “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.” It’d been a few weeks now. She hadn’t wanted to burden Mulder with it, he was dealing with enough. At first, she’d thought they would go away; they didn’t happen every night. 

 

Abandoning whatever he was working, he stood to come to her. She looked tired. He was worried she was going to make herself ill. “You’d let me know, if there was something?” Mulder didn’t seem convinced. Even after all this time, Scully could be such an enigma to him, though they knew each other better than anyone else on planet earth.

 

“Don’t you worry about me, Mulder.” Scully crossed her arms, and leant back against the door frame. She was starting to freeze standing on the cold, wooden floor of their home in just her pyjamas. “Are you coming to bed at all tonight?” 

 

It was already 5 am, Scully had to be up in two hours, but the way she was looking at the floor told him it would make her feel better if he did. “Now, how could I turn down an offer like that, Scully?” 

 

The corner of her mouth quirked at that. “Come on, Mulder.” 

 

He knew she hadn’t been suggesting anything, she just wanted him there next to her when she went to sleep, and that was almost as good.

 

* * *

 

 

Wiping sleep from his eyes, his wrist brushed his jaw. He should shave, he hadn’t done so since thursday morning before the long weekend. It didn’t bother him, but he knew Scully wasn’t so keen on it. He’d gone to bed but after a couple of hours sleep, he’d felt Scully get up, and he’d gotten up with her. It was pretty involuntary. She could sleep without him beside her, though she didn’t like to, but he found it impossible to get to sleep without her these days. Was he too dependant? Sometimes he worried about that. He’d been so dependant on her in the years he’d been a fugitive, he owed her so much, it was hard to know how to thank her. At least he had a job. He’d missed having somewhere to go and something to do, and Scully’s work was sometimes only the other side of the Potomac, when she wasn’t teaching, so he could go visit her during the day sometimes. He had it pretty good; he loved Scully, he lived in the house he’d alway wanted, he got paid damn well to do what he was good at, and yet, sometimes it all felt so… empty. Did he really need the X-Files so badly? Was that what was doing this to him? 

 

He did make sure to shave before he slipped a fresh suit on. Mulder had never really been into the whole suited and booted thing, that was more Scully’s deal, give him a baseball jersey and a pair of jeans any day. It was what had been expected of him at the FBI though. He didn’t wear ties now, well not every day anyway, and not in the summer, even in Washington it could get pretty warm in May. The reason he wore the suits now was because Scully still wore hers... if he was honest. Some part of him wanted them, when they were together, to look like they made sense, like they were a pair, even if that was stupid. Even though they didn’t work together anymore, he still wanted them to be ‘Mulder and Scully’. He always thought about that when a colleague called him, ‘Mulder’. Did Scully think about that when someone called her ‘Dr Scully’? 

 

* * *

 

_ FBI Academy, Quantico. _

 

“Morning, Dana.” Dr Scherer greeted her, cheerful as ever. The elderly gentleman looked up from whatever he was signing for at the front desk. His dark eyes were as youthful and bright as ever, as much as this seemed to contrast the rest of him; an 80 year old gentleman dressed in suspenders and a tweed jacket. 

 

“Morning, Amos. I heard you got a commendation from the Director for consulting on that Gibson Island case. Congratulations.” Scully smiled at the receptionist as she signed in, continuing to talk to Amos. 

 

Going back to teaching at the Academy had been a natural step for her after she’d been reinstated to the FBI in 2003. She was getting too old for field work, in her own opinion it was a job for agents in their 20s and 30s. She still got involved in that side of things sometimes though. Her in depth experience with unnatural phenomenon made her an invaluable consultant, when she wasn’t teaching. The Bureau had needed her elsewhere, and with Mulder and the X-Files gone, the Hoover building had held nothing for her but memories, some better than others. It had been fifteen years now, and she was settled in her work here at Quantico. 

 

“Thanks. Wasn’t all me though,” Amos reminded her, “what your Mr Mulder said about considering the crime scene might have been staged before the attacks took place helped me build the profile. You two should come over sometime for dinner so I can thank him myself. Annie would love that.” 

 

Scully smiled at the mention of Amos’ wife. It was quite the inviting offer. “That sounds nice.”

 

“Great!” Amos clapped his hands together, before reaching out across the desk in front of them and sweeping up a folder, which he then tucked under one arm. Picking up his cane, that he had left resting against the wall, he begun to hobble off to his office.

 

“God love him,” The receptionist said. “I swear I’ll be retiring before he ever does.” 

 

Scully responded with a pursed smile, thinking introspectively about where she might be when she was Amos’ age. What would she have? Mulder, hopefully… yeah, she would have Mulder.

 

“Thanks, Ellie.” Scully took her own post out of the receptionist's grasp, and made her own exit. 

 

Turning to head toward the south building, Scully caught sight of movement out the corner of her right eye. Tracking it, she felt her vision begin to swim. The pressure in her head grew, dulling her senses. But then, for a split second, her vision refocused; a boy, no more than seven, stood so still, just looking at her. Dark hair… dark hair, before she’d always thought he’d be fair haired, but those… familiar blue eyes, they hadn’t changed… 

 

Scully drew in a ragged breath, and exhaled, “William?” Then her senses failed her altogether. Before she could even register how light-headed she felt, the world went black.

 

* * *

 

 

_ Georgetown University, Washington DC.  _

  
  


“Alright then.” Mulder raised his voice as he entered the lecture hall. The chatter did quieten a significant amount. “Welcome to your first lecture on the Psychology of Memory. You should all have the texts I sent out on amnesia and techniques for improving memory. We’re going to start by discussing  hypnosis, and how it can be applied in the context of criminal cases.” Mulder sighed, straightening his suit jacket. He looked at his class. “When I was working at the FBI, there was a certain skepticism around hypnosis, and many would derail it as not a true science.” Mulder scoffed softly. “Well, they might be right... it’s not exact, like most acknowledged science claims to be. However, there is a fair amount of evidence to support that hypnosis can yield results that lead to convictions. Sometimes, by enhancing the memory we can… we can…”

 

There was a little boy sat in the back row, and he caught him off guard. He only caught him out the corner of his eye. A flash of dark hair, a blue shirt, a gaze Mulder felt rest on his own face.

 

“We can hope to obtain information that might advance our knowledge of a case, or perhaps even provide new leads.”

 

When he did his double take the boy was gone. Any normal person would have called it sleep deprivation, told himself it was his mind playing tricks, but Mulder wasn’t convinced. 

 

* * *

 

 

Scully was all too familiar with the sensation of waking up in a hospital bed, but it had been a while. She heard the incessant beeping coming from the monitor first, before she was blinded by white light. She groaned, realising she had one hell of a headache.

 

“Mulder?” Scully said into the light. He’d always been there when she woke up in hospitals before, either that or he was in the next bed along. That almost defined them.

 

“Shush,” came a gentle voice, “you fainted. The hospital called your mother, I told her I’d stay with you till she got here.”

 

“Amos?” Scully blinked and the kind face of her friend appeared beside her. 

 

“How are you feeling?” He enquired, patting her arm.

 

“I’d say I’ve felt better.” Scully referred to the pounding in her head, and the ringing in her ears. She sat, adjusting her pillows.

 

“Do you know what happened?” Amos seemed genuinely worried about her. She must have caused quite a scene.

 

“I’m fine, I just… there was a boy, a little boy, in the reception. Did you see him?” Scully was scared she might be going crazy. Part of her was hoping this was just the culmination of some child happening to be in the lobby, and her moving a little too quickly.

 

“No, nobody saw any little boy, Dana.” Amos replied with a furrowed brow. “Did you know the child? Ellie told the EMTs you said the name ‘William’ before you collapsed.”

 

_ ‘Oh god.’ _ Scully leant back on the pillows and tried to control her breathing, she didn’t want to cry right now. Sitting here in a hospital bed, with a man who cared for her, but that wasn’t Mulder, and knowing she had to tell this man about William; she’d been here once before, nearly eighteen years ago.

 

“That’s my son’s name.” Scully let out, softly, after drawing in a shaky breath. She blinked, and a tear, just one, fell from her eye.

 

Amos couldn’t have looked more confused or scared if he had tried. He knew she didn’t have children anymore, so he must be thinking the worst.

 

“He didn’t die. It’s complicated. Mulder and I don’t talk about it much.” It all began to come out in a stream of short, disconnected sentences. “I thought I’d begun to let go. That I could accept it. But, lately, I think I’ve been seeing… him. Do you think I’m going crazy?” She wanted an honest answer. She needed the opinion of a psychologist, and it’s not like she could ask Mulder. 

 

“No.” Amos took her hand, gently squeezing. “I don’t think you’re crazy, Dana. I think you’re grieving.” 

 

“After all these years? Why now?” Her voice was hoarse. She couldn’t make sense of it. Maybe she’d just been repressing it for so long, it was beginning to eat away at her soul. 

 

“How many years has it been?” Amos didn’t mean to pry, but he couldn’t hide how intrigued he was by this revelation.

 

“May 16th is his birthday.” Scully realised she’d been keeping track, unconsciously. “He’ll be seventeen next week. Last time I saw him he’d only just started to walk.” 

 

She remembered the day William had grabbed the side of her bed and pulled himself up. He’d fallen over after two steps, and she’d been so scared he was going to fall backward and bash his head on the bed frame, she had almost fallen off the bed in her hurry to get to him. He’d fallen on his padded bottom and was sat giggling on the carpet. It was one of the many times she’d been swept up be her love for her son, and almost looked around to find the eyes of another that loved him too, only to remember that Mulder wasn’t there. 

 

“Dana,” Amos’ voice was so soft, so understanding. 

 

“I feel I should mention I had a daughter, Emily. She passed away in ‘95. I don’t feel right not telling you that now.” Scully swallowed roughly. While she was truth telling… she might as well.

 

It had been so many years since she’d spoken her daughter’s name out loud. Scully found it so difficult, knowing that Emily was the product of experiment, and knowing she had never really been a mother to her. But she also knew that she was the only one left who could remember Emily now, the only one who still cared that Emily had ever lived, and that meant never wanting to forget. Scully didn’t see Emily though, there were no fantasies of the life that might be lived. The fact that William was alive, that he was still out there, growing up without her, that made it impossible to ever move on. She would always be wondering about him.

 

Amos reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Scully’s shoulder. Why did he have to be so kind? It almost seemed to make it harder.

 

“We’ve known each other so many years. You never said anything.” Amos said, eyes downcast. “Even when I told you about Jacob.”

 

Scully sighed. Amos’ son had been born in the late 50s, with a congenital defect that wasn’t easy to treat, not back then anyway. He’d lived till he was five years old, and Amos still had a picture of him on his desk. Scully had wanted so badly to commiserate with Amos, to say that she understood, but when they’d met William’s loss was still an open wound. Coming back to civilian life, and not having her son back, knowing she had given up her rights and that it was best that he stayed with his new family. It had been unbearable. 

 

“I’m so sorry,” Scully started. “Finding out you’d lost a child too. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t, and then I’d just… kept William to myself for so long.” The tears began to fall freely, she just couldn’t hold them back anymore. “I never even spoke about him with my family, just Mulder. Even then we… we don’t talk about him much.” 

 

Scully’s mom had tried so hard to start conversations about William of course, but she’d let it go when it was clear her daughter couldn’t bear to speak of it. She wouldn’t put her through more pain. All Maggie had ever known was  _ ‘I had to give him up’ _ . Scully often wondered how her mother had managed to find the strength not to judge, to understand, though she had none of the information. 

 

“Dana?”

 

Scully jumped, raising her hand to wipe away her tears. “Hi, Mom.”

 

“Dana, I was so worried, they’re saying you collapsed?” Maggie Scully rushed to her daughter’s side. 

 

“I should get going now.” Amos patted Dana’s wrist. 

 

She nodded.

 

“It’s good to see you again, Maggie.” Amos smiled at her as he stood.

 

“Thanks for staying with her.” Maggie said.

 

Amos acknowledged her gratitude, and then met Scully’s eyes one last time, no doubt still thinking about what had passed between them. 

 

“Dana, what’s wrong?” Maggie asked when Amos was gone, wiping away the last of her daughter’s tears. “Are you ill? Please tell me it’s not-”

 

“It’s not the cancer, I’m fine.” Dana knew where he mother’s mind was headed.

 

“Then what?” 

 

“Mom.” Scully moistened her lips as she averted her gaze, unable to look her mother in the eye. The floodgates had been opened. “I don’t know why, or how, but… I saw William today.”

 

“What?” Maggie breathed the word out, disbelief stealing her voice.

 

“Not in the flesh. I don’t know. He looked maybe seven, or eight. He was in the lobby.” She was so confused, and she couldn’t believe she was telling her mother about this. “I’ve always been haunted by my decision, and seen children I thought looked like he might, but not like this… this was different.”

 

“Dana.” Maggie reached out and pulled her daughter into her arms, stroking the back of her head like she had when she was a little girl.

 

“Did I fail him, Mom?” Scully sobbed, tucking her face into Maggie’s neck. “Could I have done more? Is that why I’m being tormented like this. Did I fail my son?” 

 

“No. No, Sweetheart.” Maggie gripped her tight to her, with no sign of letting go. “I never knew why, but I know my daughter, and I know how much you loved William. I know you did what you had to.” She was weeping too now; hot tears falling on Scully’s back as the two women held firmly onto one another.

 

“He’s almost seventeen now, Mom. I’ve missed his whole life. Every single birthday. How could he forgive me? How do I forgive myself for not being there for him?” It was seeing him, that little boy, real or not real, that had caused these ancient feelings of guilt and inadequacy to surface. He’d look so alone in that lobby, so unloved. She’d given him up so he’d never have to feel those things. 

 

“You did the right thing, Scully.”

 

She looked up to see a towering figure stood in the doorway.

 

“I’ve always understood that, and I think you know it too.” Mulder’s voice was dower. He seemed tired. In anyone else she would have said they hadn’t got enough sleep, but Mulder never got enough sleep. 

 

“Fox,” Maggie acknowledged him first, drawing away from Dana to stand up. “You two should talk. I’ll get us some coffees.” She gripped Mulder’s arm in passing as she moved through the doorway, a small thank you for the words of comfort he’d offered her daughter. 

 

“How long were you stood there?” Scully sighed, as Mulder approached the bed.

 

“Long enough to hear you say you saw him.” Mulder sat on the edge of the mattress, and gathered up her left hand in his.

 

“I don’t know what it was, Mulder.” Scully begun to try and rationalise it. “There are cases where extreme guilt can manifest itself in hallucinations, and I haven’t been getting a whole lot of sleep recently. His birthday’s coming up, perhaps subconsciously-”

 

“Is your guilt over William so extreme as to cause that kind of reaction?” Mulder interrupted.

 

Scully didn’t answer him.

 

“You know you have nothing to apologise for, Dana.” Mulder stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, encouraging her to meet his gaze once again. “Besides, I think there might be another explanation.”

 

“What kind of explanation?”

 

Mulder shifted, moving closer. “Ten minutes before I got the call from you Mom, to say you’d collapsed, I…” Mulder bit his lip, wondering for a split-second if it was best to tell her, before remembering she had the right to know. “I saw him too.”

 

Scully shook her head slowly. That was impossible. 

 

“A little boy, maybe seven, in the back row of the lecture hall. I swear it Scully. I only saw him out the corner of my eye, and then he was gone. It was strange, because before I always imagined William with hair more like yours, fair, but this boy’s hair was-”

 

“Dark brown.” Scully finished for him. They’d seen the same boy then, it was too much of a coincidence to be anything else. 

 

“Do you think it’s possible we both saw him at the same moment?” Mulder said, already feeling like he knew the answer. He was sure they had… but why? And how was that possible?

 

“What do you think it means?” Scully’s jaw was set. She didn’t like this. Her son was normal, Spender had made sure of it, and there was no reason he should be appearing to her and his father in this way. He was supposed to be far away from all of this, living a normal life. What if he wasn’t? 

 

“I don’t know. Someone out there sending a message?” It was all he could think, that this was a threat of some kind.

 

“Or a cry for help?” Scully offered.  “It didn’t feel threatening, Mulder. Maybe this is William reaching out to us?”

 

“How? You said yourself, the magnetite…”

 

“I don’t know.” Scully said. “I know that I hope this can be explained another way, but I also know that I can’t… go on blindly believing William is safe without proof.”

 

“The only person who knows where William is disappeared nearly four years ago, Scully.”

 

“If Spender’s alive we have to find him, Mulder. He’s where we start.” Scully held Mulder’s hand a little tighter. “If you have any idea where he might be…”

 

“I don’t, but I know someone who might.” 

 

* * *

 

 

“Thanks for meeting me.” 

 

“You said it was important, Agent Doggett.” Jeffrey Spender adjusted his baseball cap. Even in this dark corner of a crowded bar, his scars might be seen, drawing unwanted attention. He didn’t like being out in public for long. “I wasn’t aware you were currently investigating anything to do with the syndicate’s past activities.”

 

“I’m not.” Doggett said definitively. “I’m here on behalf of your brother.” 

 

“Mulder never could let anything go.” Spender turned his face away as the waitress collected two empties from the table next to them. 

 

Doggett leant forward in his seat, his drink forgotten. “This isn’t about the syndicate, Spender, this about his son, his and Scully’s. The child you hid for them.” 

 

“Is he alright?” Spender seemed genuinely worried. 

 

“They don’t know, that’s why they want to know where he is.” Doggett saw no reason not to tell him the truth. Mulder and Scully hadn’t said to hold anything back.

 

“I checked on him several years ago, after they stopped looking for me.” Spender looked weighed down by his past as he spoke. Reminiscing wasn’t any fun for a man like him. “Went back to the farm in Wyoming where I placed him. Watched from a distance. He looked happy. What’s changed?” 

 

“Mulder wouldn’t say why they wanted to find him, but they seemed worried.” Doggett hadn’t pushed it. They hadn’t wanted to tell him, but he trusted their judgement. If they said their son might be in danger, he knew they had a good reason to believe that. 

 

“I don’t know where he is for sure.” Spender admitted. 

 

Doggett leant back, clenching his jaw, dreading going back to Mulder and Scully with something vague. 

 

“I was worried I might be followed. That someone might notice if I visited again. I can tell you where they were in 2011, and give you a name.” Spender grabbed a paper napkin and took a pencil out his pocket.

 

“A name?”

 

“Of the adoptive family: Van De Kamp.” Spender began to scribble the information down. “The place is in the middle of nowhere. 20 miles south of Douglas, Wyoming. Trail Creek Farm.” When he was finished he pushed the napkin into Doggett’s waiting hand, and immediately stood to leave.

 

“This is everything?” Doggett said.

 

“Everything I know. You know how to contact me, Agent, but I suggest you don’t. Not for a while.” Spender pulled up his collar, and tipped his cap down. “I hope they find the boy safe.” 

 

Doggett looked down at the napkin, folded it, and slipped it into his front pocket. He’d get it to Mulder and Scully himself.

 

* * *

 

_ Douglas, Wyoming _

 

Scully rubbed her thumb over the pencil marks as she sat in the passenger seat, only barely taking notice of the rolling fields and occasional farm animals that littered the countryside outside her window. This napkin was their only lead. What if he wasn’t there? What if he was? She didn’t know if she could face that either.

 

“You don’t have to come with me, Scully? I’ll go alone.” Mulder said, as though reading her mind.

 

“I’ll be fine, Mulder.” Scully told him, putting the napkin back in her pocket.

 

Mulder turned the wheel and pulled into the parking lot of the County Clerk’s office. He squared his jaw, if his son still lived at Trail Creek Farm, the information would be here.

 

It wasn’t busy, in fact they were two out of the five people present in the building. Not that it mattered much, since Scully still had her badge, allowing them to jump the line. Mulder wasn’t sure they’d have gotten access to these records otherwise. They entered an office with ‘Esther Marn, County Clerk’ engraved on the plaque. 

 

“So, census and voting records. Can’t imagine why two FBI agent would be wondering about Douglas, not much goes on round ‘ere.” Esther Marn was a woman in her 60s with a neat, blonde perm, and horn-rimmed spectacles. 

 

Neither Mulder or Scully bothered to correct her on her assumption that they were both agents. 

 

“We’re just looking for the location of a couple we believe might have witnessed a crime some years back.” Scully offered a story she’d made up on the car ride over. 

 

“Van De Kamp, you said?” Mrs Marn tugged out a old file from one of the many filing cabinets in her office. “Now our files aren’t fancy, nothing past ‘99  is digitised yet, but we do pride ourselves on being thorough. No excuse in a town with less than 3000 residents.” She chucked to herself. “Here we go.” 

 

She placed the file on her desk, and sat, prompting Mulder and Scully to take the seats across from her.

 

“Here we’ve got census records for a Mr Gerald Riley Van De Kamp, a Mrs Rose Andrea Van De Kamp, and one son, Samuel Alexander Van De Kamp, for both 2000 and 2010.”

 

Mulder drew in a sharp breath. Samuel? They’d renamed his son Samuel? He felt Scully’s hand briefly ghost over his. She’d noticed it too.

 

“Let’s see if we can narrow it down with the voting records. Okay?” Mrs Marn turned over the census record to uncover the voting records. “Okay, so the parents voted in the November 2012 presidential election. Um…” She frowned, lifting the paper, then putting it back down. 

 

“Is something wrong?” Scully asked, leaning forward to try and see the papers herself.

 

“I’m sorry, Agents, those are the last records I have.”

 

“So, what? They moved out of state?” Mulder was on the edge of his seat now.

 

“That seems the most logical explanation, but if they intended to vote again in another state we should have received some sort of notification from the Electoral Register.” 

 

Scully and Mulder shared a joint look of concern. They didn’t think, they just moved, completely in sync, to the door.

 

“Agents?” Mrs Marn called after them.

 

“Thanks for all your help.” Mulder called back at her, not bothering to stop.

 

The car ride out to the farm was horrible, full of sickening anticipation and terror. Scully had to concentrate on her breathing to stop herself from hyperventilating. Mulder kept his eyes on the dirt track ahead. The twenty minutes they spent speeding way too fast along the winding road felt like hours.

 

Scully saw it before they’d even stopped. The strange look of the house, even through the dusty window of the vehicle. Her knees buckled as she got out the car, and she fell, sat back on her heels in the dirt.

 

Mulder rushed round the front of the car, dropped beside her, and took her in his arms. “We don’t know he was in there Scully.” 

 

It was burnt out, a complete wreck, not an inch of it untouched by a fire that had obviously raged many years ago now. Bits of broken, blackened debris were strewn across the area around where the farmhouse had once stood. Nature had begun to reclaim it now, moss grew on the fallen beams and greenery peaked out in the areas where the debris thinned. 

 

No, maybe he didn’t die here, Scully thought, but what she’d seen had seemed like a ghost. But, why now? It looked as if this fire had taken places years ago. 

 

Scully stood, pulling away from Mulder, and headed toward the wreck. She felt as though she might fall over at any moment. She could almost feel the flames, see the farmhouse burning. The remnants of the event stretched out around her, littering the ground. It wasn’t a cold day, but she shivered as she crossed what she could see was the threshold of the house. The roof had fallen through on the other side of it, she couldn’t really see what rooms had been which, but there was what looked like an old burnt out fridge about ten meters to her left. Was her son still here somewhere? She couldn’t bear to think it. Surely, someone would have noticed this family disappearing. 

 

As if on cue, the sound of a car rumbling up the dirt track came from behind her. She turned, to see Mulder knelt looking at something in the grass, and behind him a police car picking up dust. The car pulled up behind their SUV and came to a sharp halt. A middle-aged gentleman in a sheriff’s uniform climbed out, straightened his stetson, and began to approach.

 

“Are y’all the FBI?” The sheriff called out to them as he trudged through the long grass. “Got a call from Esther at the County Clerk’s office, said I might find y’all out ‘ere, once she remember what happened to them folks you were asking about.”

 

“I’m Agent Scully, I assume you’re the Douglas Sheriff?” Scully closed in on the man in question. “Sorry we didn’t notify you about our presence we weren’t expecting… this.” She tried not to think about the blackened wreck behind her, and who might be inside it. She didn’t quite believe it, or rather she hadn’t quite processed it. Somehow, she just had to believe he was alive and safe until she heard otherwise.

 

“I assume you knew about this incident then.” Mulder approached them.

 

“This is my partner, Mulder.” Scully gestured. It wasn’t exactly a lie.

 

“Name’s Sheriff Little. Nice to meet you agents,” The Sheriff, a stout, dark-haired man, took each of their hands in turn, shaking furiously. “Fire was reported at this address round four years ago now. Well… we got a call from some local boys to say they’d seen the place smoking. Wasn’t much left at that point though.” 

 

“And the Van De Kamp family?” Mulder asked.

 

“Three bodies found inside the premises.” Sheriff Little nodded solemnly. 

 

Scully folded her arms, tucked her chin down, and turned away. She walked back toward her son’s ruined childhood home, trying to find in it something, anything to offer hope.

 

“Where are they now?” Mulder had to ask. He wasn’t sure he had any desire to see his son’s grave, but he had to know, for Scully.

 

“Buried together in the Cemetery back in Douglas.” 

 

“What happened here, Sheriff.” Mulder looked over his shoulder. Scully was stood in front of the wreck, hands in her jacket pockets, red hair floating in the breeze. 

 

“Got to be honest with you, Agent Mulder, we haven’t got the resources out here to be as thorough as we might like to be. Fire department figured it started in the kitchen, gas leak and an open flame of some kind, blew the kitchen up and then spread to the rest of the house while the family was sleeping. Real tragedy, people round here took it real hard. Boy was just twelve.”  

 

“Wait, you think the kitchen blew up and they slept through it?” Mulder’s brow was furrowed as he turned back to the Sheriff. 

 

“I don’t what to tell you. Mr Mulder. Fire department found what was left of ‘em in what was left of their beds, no sign they ever woke up.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Do you think you could give us some time?” Mulder patted Sheriff Little on his shoulder. “I need to discuss something with Agent Scully.”

 

“That’s just fine. I’ll be back at the station when you’re finished. I’ll tell my deputy to pull out the case file for ya.” 

 

The walk from the asphalt where the cars were stopped, to where Scully stood in front of their son’s grave, seemed to take an eternity. 

 

_ ‘Samuel Alexander Van De Kamp. May 16th 2001 - December 4th 2012. Taken too soon.’  _

 

Mulder had never thought he’d have to see this. He’d walked away from William, Scully had given him up, so they’d never have to experience this.. so William could live.

 

“It doesn’t feel right, Mulder. Shouldn’t I have felt it? If he was gone.” Her voice stayed level, even as tears began to trail their way down her cheeks.

 

“Scully,” was all he could find to say. Reaching out he tugged her softly into an embrace, her cheek landing against his chest. He wrapped both arms around her, feeling her hands meet behind him, and kissed the top of her head. He stood there thanking a God he didn’t know existed that he still had her. Everything and everyone he’d lost; his son, his parents, his sister, his best friends, at least God had spared her. There were times when a greater power could have taken her from him, but they were still here, together. 

 

“It doesn’t end here.” Mulder said. “There’s something I have to show you.”

 

Scully pulled back, and gave him that quizzical brow she was so good at. He eyes were red-rimmed due to the crying, but she still managed to look discerning. 

 

“I found something in the grass, back at the farm.” Mulder removed his hand from Scully to dip into his pocket. He drew out something charred and ugly. Scully could still see glinting titanium amongst the ruined rubber of the hilt.

 

“Is that a switch knife?” 

 

“Not just any switch knife.” Mulder turned it over in his hand. He pressed on a section of it and the blade flicked out. “I recognise it. It’s a Strider SMF, the knife that was commissioned by the Marine Corps in the early 2000s to be given to Detachment One operatives.”

 

“To fight the war on terror.” Scully took the knife from Mulder, holding it in both hands. “They were disbanded in 2006, Mulder.” 

 

“I know how it sounds, Scully, but there's no reason for it to have been there if the military weren’t. I think it’s enough to suggest the Van De Kamps deaths might not have been accidental.” Mulder said. “I’m going to call Skinner.”

 

Scully immediately knew what he was thinking. “Mulder, you can’t exhume the bodies. I can’t do it, I can’t see him like… that.” Scully could barely get it out. 

 

“I understand if you can’t, Scully, but we need to be sure it’s him. I don’t know who else we can trust. If it isn’t him then the county pathologist made a false identification the first time round. Don’t you want to be sure?”

 

Scully look back over her shoulder at her son’s grave. Of course she wanted to be sure. “Tell Skinner to send a pathologist. Someone he trusts.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I knew something weird was happening here as soon as you called. You realise you’re not FBI anymore, Mulder? You could get done for impersonating a federal officer.” Skinner hissed, teeth gritted.

 

“I didn’t want to drag you into this, Skinner. I had no choice.” Mulder said. “This is important.”

 

“No it’s a tragedy. A family died in a fire, now you’re digging up their remains and the whole town knows about it. What are you thinking?” If Skinner had hair he would have been pulling out in that moment.

 

“Scully and I have reason to believe this was no accident,” was all Mulder said. “You didn’t have to fly in.”

 

“My ass is on the line, I want to damn well see what for. You two have stayed under the radar for a decade, what’s so special about this case?” Skinner lowered his voice as a Douglas police officer passed by the alcove where they were talking. 

 

“It’s the boy. Samuel.” Mulder found it hard to know how to put it.

 

Skinner looked back at him, waiting for more.

 

“Samuel’s name was William before he was adopted. It’s out son, Skinner.” Mulder’s expression was pained, though he tried to hide it as best he could.

 

Skinner pulled back, shocked. He hadn’t known what to expect, but it really wasn’t that. The last time he’d seen Mulder look this heartbroken, Scully had been dying. “Mulder, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

 

Mulder brushed off the apology. “We just have to know if it’s really him in that coffin, because if it’s not…” 

 

Skinner knew where Mulder’s mind was headed. He guided Mulder out the alcove and down the hall toward the bullpen. “I’ll cover whatever you need me to.”

 

“What about your ass?” Mulder joked half-heartedly.

 

“My ass can take it.” Skinner sighed, resigned. 

 

“Agents.” Sheriff Little approached, looking all business. “I’ve organised for the bodies to be exhumed tomorrow morning and moved to the state morgue in Casper so your Agents can take a look. Can I ask what exactly you’re hoping to find?” 

 

Skinner stepped in before Mulder could, “Sorry, I’m afraid we can’t discuss it at this time, Sheriff. Thanks for all your help, we’ll keep you as informed as we possibly can.”

 

The Sheriff nodded, resigned, and walked away.

 

“You’re good at that,” Mulder said.

 

“Being your superior was  a constant exercise in knowing how to placate other law enforcement officers.” Skinner sent a cutting glare Mulder’s way.

 

* * *

 

 

Mulder didn’t even try to sleep that night, and he wasn’t convinced Scully did all that much sleeping either. She lay unnaturally, staring up at the ceiling. He wished he knew how to comfort her, but he couldn’t, not when he had no answers and either truth was horrible. Either their son was dead, or he was in the hands of the same people that had kidnapped and tortured his parents, and had been for years. 

 

They got the call about 6 am, from the pathologist Skinner had flown from DC with. He was already at the Casper police morgue.

 

_ “Uh, I don’t know how to say this.” _ The pathologist began.

 

“Is it about the boy?” Scully said, causing Mulder to rush over to where she was on her cell to listen in, dressed only in the briefs he’d been sleeping in.

 

_ “Yeah, how did you know that?”  _

 

Scully ignored his question. “What is it?”

 

_ “The body just doesn’t fit the description I’ve been given. I don’t have to do any cutting to tell you what the measurements are telling me; there's no way this is a twelve year old boy I’ve got here.”  _

 

Scully’s gaze rose to meet Mulder’s, and she knew he’d heard it too. The body wasn’t William’s. William had been abducted. William was probably still out there. Scully hung up.

 

“Then where is he?” She breathed out, the hairs on her arms standing up. She was both overwhelmed with relief and fear simultaneously. 

 

“The county pathologist that faked the original autopsy,” Mulder said. “Where does he live?”

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
